Memory's Imprints

a love poem... that's the only way love lasts...

I met you
Black, brazen, blessed by sunlight
In the tobacco fields of a past life
Toting a sack heavy with the day's work over one time hardened shoulder
With a wink of your eye
            Your skin smelled of sweat and wisdom
As I kissed you
Behind that barn door with your perspiration trailing
A stream of lust down my face
I wore a dress of cloth that once carried flour
Feeling as light as a biscuit as your one finger traced the outline
Of my spine
            Your eyes told stories of past and future
And the present seemed to be a memory
An imprint of a moment to be framed within the soul
Burned into the fingertips in swirling prints
That don't look like a tree's years by accident...
            See how many lives we lived?
Yet life is short-lived in itself
Too many moments wasted not doing what we should be
Or saying what we really mean
We circle endlessly without Nirvana
Just trying to get it right
            So goes a Buddhist Tale
What power would manifest
If you held your years to my years
Calloused Dark Strong Soft Smooth
Blending...
Held your lips to my lips and evoke imprints
To tremble again with the nervous urgent passion
Of a first kiss
And we said whatever came to mind
Because life could go on forever if we are always second guessing
            (She uses the Buddhist Tale)
Finding bits of Nirvana here now in the warm space
Our bodies create between our souls.